


Calling You

by rhiannak



Series: Mystrade Songfic [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Songfic, mycroft travels a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 15:46:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannak/pseuds/rhiannak
Summary: Mycroft has been away for some time on a very hush-hush mission/business trip. Greg misses him dearly. Based on Blue October's "Calling You".





	Calling You

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the first in a series of songfics. All will be in the same timeline/verse, but not necessarily in order. I was going to go back and start at the beginning, but then I thought, Hey, I don't need to do that. These are just snippets of their life. Each drabble title will be the same as the title of the song it corresponds to.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: rhiannaeverlasting

Greg awoke to soft, grey light filtering through the curtains, and rolled over to check the small clock on the nightstand.

 

_4:17 AM_

 

His alarm was not set to go off for another hour and a half, so, yawning, Greg shifted into a more comfortable position and attempted to doze for a little while longer. Reaching out to his left, he groped around, not entirely sure what he was looking for, until he didn't find it.

 

_Oh yeah, you dummy. He's not here._

 

Rolling back over, Greg stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, before turning his head toward the empty space beside him. He reached for the cold pillow, hugging it close to his chest and inhaling the barely-there smell of his lover's shampoo and aftershave.

 

**_It's something I can't quite explain_ **

**_I'm so in love with you_ **

 

Mycroft had been away for 16 days now, but for Greg, it may as well have been 16 years. A voicemail on his mobile, discovered on his way out of a meeting 16 days ago, told him only that Mycroft was cancelling their plans for the evening, and would be unreachable for the near future, but that he would forward any information he possibly could to Greg as soon as he had it in his grasp.

 

_15 July, 3:42 PM_

_Dearest Gregory, I have arrived safely at my destination. Reception is scarce. I do not know when I shall return. My home is open to you, and my assistant available by phone, should you need anything. All my love. MH  
_

 

_24 July, 1:27 AM_

_Gregory, I wished to touch base with you. I am still unsure when I will return. My hope is that it shall be very soon. I long to see you again. All my love. MH_

 

It was now the thirty-first of July, and Mycroft had been silent. No calls, no more text messages. Greg had tried calling twice, hoping beyond hope to hear the man's voice, only for the call to drop as soon as it connected. Greg hugged the pillow tighter, and tried to ignore the aching in his chest. By now, though, he was wide awake. Stretching slightly, Greg abandoned the pillow, getting out of the plush, king size bed and heading for the en suite.

 

 _**So** _ _**expect me to be** _

_**Calling you to see** _

_**If you're okay when I'm not around** _

 

This room, like the rest of the house, was entirely Mycroft. Everything, from the spacious but not over-large shower, to the well loved jetted tub, to the decor, to the linens hanging by the door was entirely practical, yet elegant. Though everything seemed very understated and simple, Greg was sure the silk dressing gown hanging next to the shower probably cost more than his best court suit. Shaking his head, he used the loo and turned the shower on to warm while he stood in front of the mirror. Examining his reflection, Greg noted how easy it was to tell he had not been sleeping well. There were dark, puffy bags beneath his eyes, and a pale undertone to his normally warm toned complexion. Perhaps if he stayed in his office doing paperwork all day, he might avoid Donovan and her tactless remarks.

 

Once he had stepped from the hot shower and wrapped himself in his own fluffy bathrobe, Greg took his mobile off the charger and made his way down the wide staircase into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances glinted at him in the low light as he flicked the kettle on. Waiting for the water to boil, Greg pulled a mug from the cupboard, remember the proper location for everything as if it were his own kitchen.

 

_Of course, you've been here for four nights in a row now, you've practically claimed it as your own._

 

Leaning against the bench, Greg unlocked the screen on his mobile and began thumbing through aimlessly. Three messages from Sherlock, all the same complaints of boredom. A message from John, apologizing for Sherlock's behavior. Emails from work, a picture from his niece in France in her new school uniform. Yet the one person he was hoping to hear from remained absent from his notifications.

 

Sighing, Greg opened his contacts, searched for the correct name, and, praying to a God he was not sure he believed in, waited hear whether the call would go through. Expecting an error message, or a voicemail greeting, Greg nearly jumped for joy when the other end actually started ringing. After the third ring, a tired voice answered.

 

"Mycroft Holmes speaking."

 

"Mycroft?" Greg could have screamed, he was so happy to hear that voice.

 

"Gregory?"

 

"My! Yeah, uh...yeah. It's me."

 

"Oh, Gregory, my dear. It is so good to hear your voice."

 

"Yours, too, My. I miss you so much."

 

"As do I. Gregory, I miss you so much. It has been exceptionally difficult not to bring physical harm to any of the idiots parading as dignitaries with whom I have been forced into contact over these past weeks."

 

Greg could not help the chuckle that bubbled up at the mental image of his Mycroft with his hands around the neck of some squat, stuffy old man who had the misfortune of irritating him. "Shit, Mycroft, what am I thinking? I don't even know where you are, it could be the middle of the night where you are! You probably need sleep, I know you can't tell me what you're doing but I'm sure it's all very high pressure and--"

 

"Gregory! Please. Calm yourself. I am just fine. I am...well, I did not tell you this, but I am in America. Worry not, it is not yet midnight here."

 

"Oh. So you weren't trying to sleep, then?"

 

"No. I was not. And even if I was, I will always answer your call."

 

"So if you weren't sleeping, then there's no chance you were dreaming about me, huh?"

 

Greg heard the quiet chuckle at the other end of the line, and in his mind's eye, could see the shy but genuine smile that only he was ever lucky enough to elicit from the other man. He felt a slight pang in his chest as it made him miss his lover even more.

 

_**Calling you to see** _

_**Do I try too hard to make you smile?** _

 

"Not yet, tonight, no. Though I must confess to having remembered beautiful flashes of silver hair upon waking more than a few times recently."

 

Greg smiled for a moment before remembering Mycroft could not actually see him. "I love you."

 

_**Asking if you love me.** _

 

"And I love you, Gregory. More than I have ever loved anyone before."

 

_**I love the way you make it sound.** _

 

"I will never get tired of hearing you say that." Greg's face was almost beginning to hurt from how much he was smiling. It was more in these past few minutes than he had done since Mycroft left.

 

"I will never tire of saying it." They were quiet for a while, each simply listening to the other's breathing, before Greg heard the unmistakable sound of a yawn.

 

"You're tired. I should let you go to bed."

 

"No no no, I'm fine, I promise."

 

"My. You're practically falling asleep on me, here. I'll tell you what. I don't have to be up for another hour. I will go crawl back into the amazing bed you have upstairs, you go crawl into whatever halfway-passable hotel bed you have to make do with, and I will stay with you until you fall asleep."

 

There was a momen't pause, followed by another yawn, before Mycroft answered, "Well, alright Gregory, if you insist. Give me a moment to ready myself."

 

The phone went silent for a moment, and Greg, abandoning the kettle and heading back up the stairs, he listened to the sound of fabric shuffling around, and the sound of a wardrobe opening and closing, before his lover's sleepy voice came back to him. "Alright, I am in bed now. Are you?"

 

"Just getting there now. Alright, all snuggled in. You know, you need to get back here soon, because your pillow barely smells like you anymore. Soon, I won't have anything to remind me of you, and I may wander off and you'll never see me again."

 

"Oh, 'f course. After all the hard work we put in to get here, you'd simply forget me and walk away."

 

Greg chuckled, partly at the truth of the statement, but mostly at the way his partner began to lose articulation as he was pulled closer and closer to sleep. "You're right, love. I still can't even believe I'm here. It'll be real difficult for you to get rid of me now."

 

_**I will be calling you to see** _

_**If you're sleeping are you dreaming?** _

_**If you're dreaming are you dreaming of me?** _

 

"Greg'ry?

 

"Yes, love?"

 

"I'm going to sleep now."

 

"Please do. Goodnight, love."

 

Soft snores were the only answer Greg received. He listened for a little longer before hanging up and rolling over, smile on his face, to dose for a while more before getting back up to face the day.

 

_**I can't believe you actually picked me** _

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about an hour and a half tonight instead of going to sleep. I guess work tomorrow will be a hoot, but I really needed to get it out there. Not beta'ed. I will likely come back to it and check it over, polish it up, within the next few days. Thanks SO SO SO much for reading!


End file.
